


to love someone so much, it's out of your control

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, Some Epiphanies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bob, Eliza, a balcony, and the last cigarette he will ever smoke.





	to love someone so much, it's out of your control

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to tell y'all.

Stepping out into this balcony feels like a punishment but it’s literally been a couple years of punishment so what’s the difference? He thinks of that and he immediately regrets it. It hasn’t really been all that bad, considering. The last couple years were a whole lot of trying to figure out the path to an unlit road, fumbling through the darkness and blaming himself for being on it in the first place.

The unlit road showed him no mercy until he figured it out himself.

The night breeze runs through his hair and wraps around him like it _wants_ him to light the last cigarette that he will ever have. He laughs a little to himself when he fishes out his lighter (the one _she_ got for him for his birthday some years ago; he couldn’t bear to part with it, not even after everything, when she holds on to their memories when he couldn’t) and takes a long drag.

He lets the smoke dance around him for a moment before stubbing the half-consumed stick to the metal of his railing. That’s when he hears soft footsteps coming out from the bedroom, the slow but quiet drag of the sliding door, and a gentle laugh.

He turns around and gives her a tired smile. She _knows_ how it has been, she’s going to be forgiving if he’s not as cheery. His ex battled with that concept up until the end of their relationship, and he should have seen that as a red flag but here they are now. He thinks, if he squints enough, he can say it’s better this way.

It certainly is, right now. His companion looks absolutely glowing in the moonlight, a lovely vision to his completely muddled brain. The nicotine hits at an odd time and it knocks the breath out of his lungs like a swift punch. Or it could just be completely her.

Is there a protocol to fucking your costar right after a nasty breakup? No, there’s probably none. But there _is_ a protocol to fucking your best friend after a nasty breakup – and it’s “don’t do it” written in clear block letters. But here they are now.

She leans against the railing beside him and looks out into the beyond. “I thought you were gonna quit.”

He gives a shake of his head and a shrug. “Harder than I thought.” He finds that it’s true, in all the ways that it makes sense. When she doesn’t speak again, he finds himself trying to fill the quiet with some more dumb words. “Harder when I don’t really wanna quit.”

He watches as her lips bend to a frown. “You know it’s bad for you.”

“Says you. When did _you_ quit?”

She’s facing him now. “A long time ago.”

“Liar.”

He doesn’t know if he does it just to see her riled up but it’s out there in the open now. He can’t take them back, and if he could, taking them back means admitting defeat and he’s been losing a lot of his battles for the better part of a year now. This just – he can’t afford to lose this one.

“Unlike you, I know when to quit when it’s hurting more than helping,” she says, and yes. There it is, the truth that he doesn’t really want to hear. Some part of his brain wants to yell about the things they teach in drama school, but he shushes it and turns around to face her.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” there’s almost no vitriol in his tone, not that he can detect himself. But there’s exhaustion and a little bit of hope, as if they’re not trying to claw themselves out of this situation that they always fall into. She thinks it’s a pit, he thinks it’s… not a pit. It’s something else. Come to think of it, he doesn’t know what she thinks it is. But with the way she’s clutching his shirt around her shivering figure…

“Yes,” she replies meekly. “Always. And I don’t want to be here if – if –.”

There’s that other thing, he thinks. There’s an “if”, and for the most part, he believes he knows what it is, but right now, he doesn’t think he has the courage to even present it in his own mind. He lets the silence fester instead, until it gets too silent that she shifts in her bare feet.

She must be freezing because he’s wearing a cotton shirt and he’s shivering like a dog and she’s wearing his flannel with probably nothing underneath. He tucks her under his arm and sighs when she relaxes. He finds out as easily as breathing that he wants more of this and more of her, but a couple of heartbeats come and go and the words get stuck in his throat.

“Sorry,” he says instead.

She snorts and it sounds so lovely. “Are you really?”

Sorry about not knowing which way is up at the moment? Yes. About kicking his ex to the curb because he realized that he’s a shitty person who’s been in fucking love with another woman for a long time? Maybe. Sorry that he wants more of this? No.

“No.”

“Bob.”

“EJ.”

She laughs a little. “So, we’re really doing this?”

A breath passes and the horizon clears a little bit. What time is it? He doesn’t care. If this moment sits on the precipice of tonight and tomorrow, he doesn’t care. The unfinished cigarette is long gone and the warmth is running under his skin in slow waves. There’s nothing like the feeling of a new beginning.

“I guess we are.” He looks at her and finds her looking up at him with this little smile that’s been the subject of his dreams ever since the first time he slept with her. “I’m game if you are.”

“I guess I’m game, too.”


End file.
